She bought us lunch at a crab shack. That afternoon, we strolled five miles through the city’s largest park. We’d left a lamb roast defrosting in the refrigerator. I cooked peas and carrots, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn on the cob, while she carefully broiled it. After dinner, we watched more of the costume drama she and Andrew had started.“I’m going to bed, Grandma.” Andrew said as soon as the credits rolled.“You can sleep in, tomorrow.” Mother instructed.I woke at seven am with my son’s arm around me. I lay there for half an hour, grateful for a moment all to myself. Andrew stirred and withdrew his arm. I huddled, turned away from him. His bedclothes rustled. There was a slight jangle. I swallowed.He slipped the collar around my neck and locked it. “Open you legs, Mother.” He wriggled up and spooned me. My son’s hard cock pressed into my sore asscheek. He waited.I couldn’t talk. My mind blanked. My right leg lifted.“I need you to show me, Mom.”One hand reached between my open. I had toyank them hard to get them buttoned, halfway up my stomach. She circled meagain."Not bad," she said, patting me. "Nice ass."She left one hand linger, pushed with the other on my belly."Push it out a little though," she said, then leaned closer, to whisper inmy ear: "Panty line, though. And let's do something about the lump."She unbuttoned the jeans, yanked them down. "Not done," she said, andpulled down my briefs, too. "You like this, eh?" She grinned.She got the jeans off, my underwear, too, somehow. Then, she handed me astretchy, skin-colored pair of briefs."No panty line," she said. "It's not really a girdle, but it helps theshape."She pulled the tight elastic up; when she had wrestled it most of the wayin place, she plunged her hand in and tugged to push my penis down andback, so fast, I barely felt the burn of scraping."There," she said, running her hand down my now-tilting-backward groin."No lump. No one would ever know."The new jeans she handed me were tighter, but.
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